Little Red
by specsO-O
Summary: Blaine is a wolf in a human's body. He lives alone in a cabin in the woods, picking off hikers whenever he feels the need. Then along comes a boy in red...Full warnings inside. Inspired by Grimm, and oddly enough Beauty and the Beast.
1. Chapter 1

** AN: So, I was watching Grimm, which is my new favorite thing. The season premire, which was based on Little Red Riding Hood, was amazing and inspired this.**

**So, Blaine is a wolf. Not a werewolf, but a wolf in a human body. It's hard to explain. Anyway, since the episode was based around Little Red Riding Hood, wolves on the show are bloodthirsty in general (unless they make an executive decision to not be and work incredibly hard to keep from killing people) and cannot help themselves when it comes to people in red. (I'm probably going to twist that so it means he can't resist a certain someone sexually instead of in a carnivorus way.) **

**This first part will probably leave you with questions, but if you just ask whatever you're wondering about I'll be sure to answer. (Alot of stuff will be revealed later on, I promise.)**

**Anyway, Warnings: dub-con/non-con (It's kinda hard for me to call it outright rape because of the not-of-this-world-reasonings, but I'm warning it as non-con.), violence, D/s elements, what could be considered bloodplay, and the fact that Blaine eats people. **

* * *

><p>It wasn't his fault.<p>

No, it really wasn't. He just couldn't resist, couldn't force himself away.

It should really count in his favor that he even tried to stop himself; He usually didn't even consider it.

It was just instinctual. He was tempted to from the get-go, but then yesterday...

* * *

><p>He was waiting. He was behind the massive oak tree only a few feet back from the trail, breathing silently. It was five fourty-seven.<p>

The boy was running late.

As it is typical, as soon as he thought those words he smelt the boy approaching, and he heard him mere seconds later. He smiled to himself, though he was unsure as to why. He'd spent every Monday through Friday afternoon the past few weeks lurking about, waiting for the boy. He didn't really know why, but there was just something about him, something he couldn't really lay a finger on. He just had to see him, make sure the boy kept coming back to him.

Not that the boy knew he was there. Of course not. He was much to stealthy for anyone to notice him unless he wanted to be noticed.

It had surprised him when he was he happened upon the boy for the first time. He'd been walking along, minding his own bussiness, re-marking his territory with a few slashes to some of his trees. He was about to mark the oak when he'd heard someone coming uo the trail. Normally, he would have just left, since he'd only just eaten the day before, but he was intrigued. The light footsteps and sweet little puffs of breath didn't match the smell of whoever it was, which was covered in grease and corn syrup and all sorts of unidentifiable objects. Then the boy came into view, and he couldn't move.

The boy was gorgeous. He watched as the boy stopped suddenly, taking a cautious look around. He kept perfectly still and undeniably quiet, even as the boy looked right at him. He would swear that their eyes had met through the foliage, for just a minute, before the boy shook his head and ran off.

He had thought about the boy alot since that first day, dreamed about his pretty pale skin and bright blue eyes. He'd pictured the cute little puffs in his breathing as he hurried through the woods.

And he'd gone back to the tree, every day, at exactly five, waiting patiently to see him again. He came every school day, clutching a messenger bag and keeping an eye on the ground to ensure that he didn't trip and ruin whatever ensamble he had on. (Seeing what the boy chose to wear each day was always interesting. He'd started taking bets with himself to guess what kind of shoe or what color he'd wear. He wasn't usually right, but it gave him something to do while he waited.)

Then yesterday. As it's been mentioned, he was waiting patiently, and then the boy came into view.

He hadn't had a choice.

He'd flown out from behind the tree and knocked the boy off the trail and into the bushes on the other side so quickly he didn't even register doing it. He didn't do much for a moment, simply taking in the boy's face up close. He'd knocked the boy out on impact, but he couldn't stop the thoughts of how beautiful he was from running through his mind. He'd shaken the thoughts away, and instead listened carefully for any signs of other people. When he'd clarified that the woods were vacant, he'd stood, growling softly as he threw the boy over his shoulder, heading in the direction of his home.

And that brought him to where he was now, sitting at the edge of a soft, four-poster bed, watching his boy sleep.

It was weird. Ususally, he'd just have thrown whoever he'd caught down here and went back up to the rest of the cottage, locking his victim in for safe-keeping. He'd probably make them something to eat as well, since he might as well get the most out of his eventual meal. But not this time. This time, he was just sitting, and watching, his eyes growing darker the longer he let his eyes sweep over the body lying innocently in front of him. He very slowly, very carefully, picked his hand up, bringing it forward to brush the boy's bangs back from his forhead. He felt his fangs grow at the contact, but willed them away, letting his hand trail along the boy's face so he could feel the skin.

_So soft._

He felt the boy stir lightly, but ignored it, watching his hand as it traveled the path down the boy's body, before coming to rest at the top of one of the bright red knee-high boots the boy wore, those boots which helped seal his fate. He undid the numerous buckles on the boot, carefully sliding it off, before doing the same to it's twin. He rubbed at the boy's calves for a moment, before standing with the boots in hand. He carried the boots the few feet to the closet, pushing aside about twenty red coats and sweaters of various shades, styles, and sizes, to get to the shelf he'd carefully folded and placed the boy's cape-like coat that was a slightly darker red then his boots. He put the boots mext to the coat, one on either side, before shoving the other, somehow less important red articles in front.

He walked back over to the bed, and continued his observing. This was better. Now he didn't feel an overwhelming urge to tear into the boy with claw and fang. He frowned a bit, backing up from the bed.

Now that his head was clear enough to think, he had the odd feeling that he didn't actually want to devour this boy the same way he wanted to the others. Very peculiar.

He raised an eyebrow, leaning down to press a kiss to the boy's neck before he could stop himself. He found himself kept there for a moment, breathing in the boy's scent. He smelled incredibly sweet, as he usually did, but it was so much better when he was so close. He pressed his lips back again, then again, and then several times, his lips gradually opening more and more with each kiss, his breathing getting harder. Withing seconds he was completely covering the boy with his body. licking and biting all over his neck. His fangs grew, and there was blood in his mouth. Sweet, delicious-

He threw himself across the room with all of his will power, slamming painfully into one of the bookshelves that lined the walls. He growled, feeling himself hunch over and his face begin to show its true form. He reached up to cover his nose from the smell of blood, feeling his claws dig into his face as he scrambled to get up the ladder. He flopped down on the floor at the top of the latter, slamming the trap-door closed and throwing a decorative rug over it. He breathed heavily, cursing under his breath. He'd never lost control like that. Yeah, if he'd been over two weeks without a kill, he'd jump the next person in red and devour them without thinking, but it had never been like this; He'd just eaten yesterday.

He slowly picked himself up, grabbing his first aid kit from the kitchen and stalking to his bedroom. He began cleaning the scratches surrounding his nose, grumbling as the damn alchohol in the wipes stung. He flipped on his television, trying to get his mind of the boy in his basement.

"-seventeen year old McKinley High School student, Kurt Hummel, has been reported missing when he didn't come home last night or show up for school this morning-"

His eyes widened. There was no way. He jumped up from his bed, scattering ointments and bandages as he lunged for his iphone, checking the date.

He'd spent all of last night in his basement staring at a boy he was more then likely going to eat. That wasn't something he'd consider normal for his lifestyle.

He sighed, flopping himself down on his bed. God, this kid was screwing with him, and he wasn't even awake.

His ear fidgeted slightly, and he felt an involuntary smrik spread across his face. Scratch that, the boy was awake.

He slowly rose to his feet, stalking over to stand above the rug that hid the door seperating him from the boy. _Kurt._

What a fitting name. He listened to the, to Kurt, rustle around for a few minutes, before a steady stream of _oh my God, oh my God_ rose up from beneath the floorboards. He felt his heart stutter at the soft, slightly high voice, before he squashed the feeling. He needed to atleast attempt some sort of control.

After weeks of observing (he refused to acknowledge his behavior as stalking) and what had apparently been hours of the boy being unconcious, it was time to meet Kurt Hummel.

It wasn't like he had any other choice.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: See, you probably have some questions now. It should all be revealed, but just ask about anything you want to know, so I can be sure to bring it up at some point.<strong>

**Anyway, review, and watch Grimm. It's two episodes in but already fantastic. (And the second epidsode with the bears had some oddly erotic scenes.)**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I love you guys, ya know? That's why I finish this as I watch WhoseLine when I should be sleeping. I felt bad for not updating anything last weekend. If it helps, it's because I've been writing both this and Perfect, so the new chapters were both half-done as of tonight, and I finished this one because it's shorter, so Perfect should be good to go by Saturday foor those of you who care.**

**Anyway, said chapter:**

* * *

><p>He didn't deserve this.<p>

No, he really didn't. He was just an unfortunate person, never able to catch a damn break.

It was just his luck. He'd been through quite a lot, though it was never at a point where he actually, legitamately, _seriously_ feared for his life.

And then yesterday. Or today. Or quite possibly a week ago, he had no idea.

* * *

><p>He was walking home the same way he had been for the past month or so, ever since Azimio and his friends had started following him on his way home from school. They hadn't actually done anything, but he wasn't one to take chances, and had begun to take a trail through the woods home. It was park of the cross country team's practice run, and he'd managed to sneak over unsuspiciously by pretending to bring Mike some brownies he had helped Brittney make. Mike had casually showed him the path, somehow knowing what had been going on, as he usually did. Since then, it had just been routine. He'd bring Mike some type of baked good and be on his way. Every now and then, one of the other runners would make some comment, but it really wasn't that bad. Mike would just shrug them off and thank him, and to be honest, he didn't think most of them really cared. Tina had been frightening a few days in, when she'd cornered him in the hallway and told him to make sure he didn't get any ideas about her man and his six-pack, but eventually she'd let go of her suspicions, and everything returned to normal.<p>

Only, now he was waking up in a creepy dark room on a bed that most certainly was not his own, and he was sore all over, missing half of his clothes.

Oh, God, he was raped, wasn't he? There was probably some distirbing old man in the shadows watching him, waiting for him to go back to sleep so he could do everything again and there weren't even candles or rose petals or _anything_ he'd wanted and of course not because he was so _raped_ and why couldn't anything be sacred? He began mumbling to himself, not entirely sure what he was saying. He was in the middle of the woods with someone who was insane and probably looked liked Sandy Ryerson and oh God, what if it was Sandy Ryerson? And there was movement above him, and-

He stopped. There was movement above him. He forced his mouth closed, eyes wide as he frantically searched for something to defend himself. There were just a bunch of books, but maybe if he pushed the shelf itself over...

A loud bang rang out and the room flooded with light.

* * *

><p>He barely managed to stop himself from tearing the door to Kurt's room off it's hinges. No need to scare the boy too much, with the loss of blood and all.<p>

His heart stopped as he caught sight of Kurt sitting on the bed, eyes wide and heart thumping. Blaine dropped down to the floor, not bothering with the ladder and landing on all fours before slowly standing, hazel eyes never leaving the other boy's blue. The boy stayed stationary, not even trying to move as he got closer. Blaine tilted his head, standing beside the bed, looking down at the other boy.

After a few minutes, he reached down, anxious to touch that skin again.

Kurt was up and scrambling for the ladder the moment Blaine's fingertips brushed his cheek.

Blaine growled, stalking over and grabbing Kurt's sides, tearing him off the ladder and throwing him across the room and onto the bed. Before he could stop himself, his claws were out and tearing through the ladder, ripping it to shreds.

* * *

><p>Kurt sat shaking, tears in his eyes. He'd thought he might have had a chance against his kidnapper, since the man didn't look that big, but he was just so strong, ripping through wood with his hands, and shit he'd made him angry and he was going to die, and never see his father again, and-<p>

* * *

><p>Blaine finally stopped as the last bits of splinters fell to the ground. He breathed heavily, straightening his spine and rolling his neck a bit to try and coax any bones that had been trying to return to form to stay human. He took another deep breath before turning around and staring Kurt in the eyes.<p>

"Don't ever try that again. _Ever._ Got it?"

The boy on the bed nodded quickly. Blaine exhaled, still trying to calm down.

"Good. Now, why don't you just stay on the bed for a second, and let me get a trashbag or something." He jumped through the hole in the ceiling easily, grumbling as he went to the kitchen.

* * *

><p>Oh God, a trashbag? He was going to die, and then be burried somewhere in the middle of the woods in a trashbag. After all the dumpster tosses, that was how he was going to go?<p>

No. No, he most certainly would not. He would figure something out. He just needed to hide, and when the man was looking for him, he could make a stealthy escape.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he swung his legs off the bed and to the ground.

He was instantly doubled over in pain. He bit his lip furiously to keep himself from crying out, and scrambled under the bed, since he doubted he'd be able to get anywhere further away. He breathed as quitely as possible, peeking out at the floor from under the dust ruffle. He forced himself to calm his breathing as he waited.

* * *

><p><em>"Those damn eyes,"<em> Blaine growled under his breath. Why'd they have to look so scared? As far as the boy knew, he could have been a fire-fighter or something, coming to rescue him.

But he wasn't, and Kurt had tried to leave him. That hurt.

He frowned. He really shouldn't care what Kurt thought of him, since he was just going to eat him anyway.

Still, he remembers what his father always told him.

_In medival times, butchers used to use one hand to feed the pig designated for the evening meal the castle's best oats, and the other to bludgeon the pig to death. The happier the pig, Blaine, the tastier the meal._

Blaine tended to ignore every word that left his father's mouth, but maybe he could take in this specific piece of advice to heart, just this once. He'd always been spontaneous with his kills, but perhaps he'd been so enamored with the boy in the basement was because he'd always had his father's words in the back of his mind. It couldn't hurt to try. He grabbed a glass, filling it carefully to the brim with water. Looking around, he spotted an apple. He snatched it up. The bright red kind of reminded him of Kurt, actually. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards as he tossed the apple and caught it, before collecting the first-aid kit off the counter and grabbing a trashbag, making his way back to the basement.

Kurt tensed, hearing the approaching footsteps.

Blaine gently set the water glass, apple and first-aid kit next to the entrance to the basement. He dropped down, landing silently with ease. He forced a smile on his face, before turning around to greet-

The bed was empty. Fuck.

* * *

><p>Oh, God, his kidnapper was going to find him, hiding under the bed was stupid. He should have tried to climb out and hide in another part of the house (or wherever they were), or at least attempted to make it to the closet...<p>

* * *

><p>Blaine stalked across the room, all notions of politeness gone from the forefront of his mind. The boy was obviously under the bed; Blaine could fucking <em>smell<em> him, his natural sweet scent and the tang of freshly shed blood. The kid had probably walked right through the splinters, or done something equally idiotic to open the scratches on his neck.

He dropped down to his stomach, his hand shooting out under the bed and grabbing an ankle, dragging Kurt out with a swift force. He then grabbed Kurt by the collar of his white dress shirt, pulling him to his feet. He glared into his wide blue eyes for a moment _(such a pretty blue)_, before pushing him back onto the bed with a growl of frustration.

"Stupid boy," he whispered through clenched teeth, turning back to the enterance to grab the first aid kit. He plopped down at the end of the bed, grabbing one of Kurt's socked feet and dragging it into his lap. Kurt tried to yank it back, but Blaine held tight, smacking him on the thigh when he tried to squirm away a second time. He plucked the tweasers out from the first aid kit, yanked Kurt's sock off, and began swiftly removing the splinters that had embedded.

"Let me go!"

Blaine growled, shifting so he was facing the rest of Kurt's body and grabbing his chin in his hand, forcing the younger boy to look at him.

"Listen to me, Kurt."

"How do you know my-"

"Don't interupt!" Blaine exclaimed in annoyance. After a moment he let go of Kurt's face and returned his attention to the splinters. "Look," he sighed. "I'm trying to be nice here. I don't have to take out the time to make sure you're comfy."

"I'm pretty sure that you have to let me go. Or were you not aware that kidnapping is illegal?"

Blaine clenched his jaw, forcing his body to keep up appearances.

_"Fine,"_ he rasped dangerously. "You can just take care of yourself." He pushed Kurt away from him, effectively causing the boy to fall on his side, and no, he was not going to acknowledge the weird twist in the pit of his stomach at that. He pulled himself up and out of the basement, throwing down the apple.

Stupid boy, he thought angrily, slamming the basement trap-door closed.

* * *

><p>Why did he do that? How stupid did he have to be to keep challenging an obviously unstable man, especially one who'd already proven to be strong and violent? He knew it was a terrible idea to piss the guy off, but before he could even think snarky comments were rolling off his tongue, almost instinctual. It was unnerving.<p>

He swallowed, his throat feeling a bit dry. He reached for the apple that had landed on the end of the bed. Would it be posioned? He sniffed it, before taking a tentative lick.

It seemed normal enough. Maybe if he just ate half of it, it would be okay even if it was laced with something.

* * *

><p>Blaine brought the axe down, splitting a huge log in half. He looked over to the pile. He must have already done this about fifty times in the last half-hour. He huffed, nostrils flaring.<p>

It was all the boy's fault. Ungreatful little boy, that Kurt. He was ruining everything, swooping in in his little cape and boots, leaving Blaine no choice but to take him. He'd caused it all and he couldn't manage to keep himself from getting hurt and he wouldn't just let himself be taken care of and Kurt hated him and _why_ did that piss him off? He shouldn't care, and he really, _really_ didn't want this.

What was he going to do? He sighed heavily, snatching his iphone off the random log he'd set it on.

He punched the didgets in several times before he managed to make himself press the call button. He held out hope that his call wouldn't be recieved for three rings, but then a low, feminine voice was snapping at him to talk. He took a deep breath.

"I need your opinion on something..."

* * *

><p>Over four hours later, Blaine carefully pulled open the door to the basement. After peering in to be absolutely sure Kurt was asleep, (he'd spent the entirety of the past three hours listening to Kurt breathe, and he was fairly sure he'd been asleep for a while now, but better safe then sorry) he dropped down, landing softly. He strode over to the bed, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Kurt's forhead. He moved his head, pressing his face back in to Kurt's neck. He took a deep breath, smiling at the scent.<p>

It was fine.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: You aren't totally supposed to understand that last bit, as of yet, so no worries if you don't. It's just to point out that Blaine's figured out what's going on with them, though Kurt obviously doesn't. (Seeing as he has no idea Blaine is a wolf, it would be impossible for him to even guess.)<strong>

**Anyway, do you have any theories? I'd like to know, because I'm curious like that.**

**Ok, so, since I'm watching it, favorite WhoseLine character? I PICK RYAN STILES! (The tall one who always has wacky custom shoes.) Just...Ryan. Colin is a close second though.**

**Right then, drop a review with your thoughts, if you want, and remember to watch Grimm! (Especially the first one, which is still my favorite.)**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I had a very nice person very politely ask me to update this a very long time ago. I finally did.**

**Warning: This shit is kind of all over the place.**

* * *

><p>Kurt is not an unobservant person. He knows that his kidnapper is watching him, even if he hasn't seen him since the first day when he's torn the ladder to shreds.<p>

It's very shallow of him, but he is thankful that at least the guy isn't ugly or particularly psycho looking, though he'd prefer a weak, ugly guy to a strong, cute one.

He doesn't know how long he's been here. He does, however, know that several days have passed. On one hand, the kidnapper hasn't killed him, so this could be a ransom type thing or something the guy just does for kicks. It's still crazy and weird, but it's better than getting chainsaw murdered.

He's so, so terrified of being chainsaw murdered.

He's gone past panicking, however. He's angry and resentful and depressed and enough other emotions that if he wrote them all down it'd look like a pamphlet given to preteen girls telling them what to expect when they get their period.

If he's ever kidnapped a girl Kurt's heart goes out to them. He bets this man wouldn't even think to get them stuff they need.

A floorboard creaks above him.

"I want to leave," Kurt tries, knowing he sounds pathetic but not really giving a fuck. He gets nothing in response.

"I know you can hear me!" Kurt shouts. Oh look, he's swung over to angry. "I want to go home."

There is a pause, and then he gets an answer.

"You're not going."

There's another pause, some shuffling, and the door opens, revealing hazel eyes and dark curls. The guy_ smiles_.

"Hello, Kurt."

"Hi," Kurt says, obviously sarcastic and borderline hysterical. "I don't think I caught your name."

"It's Blaine," he says. "Blaine Anderson."

"Charmed, I'm sure."

Blaine chuckles and Kurt glares at him. They stay silent for a moment, before Blaine breaks the ice.

"So, um…do you like your room?"

Kurt stares at him with a frown.

"What?"

"The room," Blaine repeats, gesturing around. "Do you like it?"

"I could go for a window," Kurt bites out. Blaine_ laughs_ at him.

"I'd like to give you one, but I'm sure you know why I won't." Blaine looks at him, smile dropping as he suddenly becomes serious. "I can't allow you to leave me, Kurt."

"I don't want to be here."

"You will. I can get you things, if you'd like. New clothes? Any specific shower supplies? I can get some magazines or movies."

"There's no tv."

"Well not down here," Blaine says. "But we could watch something upstairs together."

"I'll take my chances down here, thanks. I figure it'll be harder to murder me if you can't surprise me."

Blaine's smile fades.

"I'd never hurt you, Kurt."

Kurt stares up in disbelief. _Really?_

"I want to go home," he tries one last time.

"You are home."

Kurt looks straight at him.

"You aren't home if you aren't with the people you love."

Blaine studies him for a minute, face blank, before his smile resettles on his face. Something changed though; Kurt can tell.

"Do you want me to get you anything," Blaine asks calmly, one more time.

"I'm fine, thanks."

"I'll get anything you want," he says, smile getting a little tighter. "Surely you want something, Kurt?"

"No thank you."

Blaine's eyes flash. Kurt knows that's a stupid thing to think but they do and he's gone back to looking dangerous.

"Fine," he allows.

"Fine," Kurt repeats, crossing his arms. He shouldn't challenge his kidnapper. He knows that logically, but he can't seem to help it. He's been in the same clothes, he hasn't had a shower (he's not about to be naked in this place), and he's not eaten anything substantial since he's gotten here. For lack of a better word, he is goddamn grumpy.

Blaine, fortunately, does not pull out a knife. He just sighs, closing his eyes for a minute.

"Kurt-"

"Will you please leave me the hell alone?" Kurt exclaims. "If you're going to murder me than do it, but if not would you just go away?"

"I only want to take care of you," the kidnapper stresses.

"I can take care of myself."

Blaine's slient, looking down at Kurt as his jaw clenches. Kurt glances at his hand just as Blaine brings it out of sight. Kurt could swear he just saw something...

"Well, let's see how well that works out for you," Blaine says, voice low and all of a sudden it reality sets back in and this guy is dangerous. "Go ahead, Kurt, take care of yourself, down in this room, with no food, and water that I can simply shut off. I don't use this bathroom, so there's no reason I shouldn't cut down my water bill. You just go ahead and starve. I'll come back in a few days and see if you've changed your mind. Maybe being on the brink of death will push you to appreciate what I'm willing to do for you." His face blank but his eyes are nothing but cold fury and Kurt's never hated someone as much in his life.

"I would rather die than be dependent on you, Blaine," he whispers.

"That, princess," Blaine spits out, "can be arranged."

The door shuts.

* * *

><p>Kurt hates him.<p>

Kurt hates him and it's all his fault. It's just, it's instinctual for him, to want to be in charge. He's an Alpha, and if Kurt is his soulmate, then he has to be an omega. How is Blaine supposed to handle his omega not understanding that he's supposed to step back and let his Alpha take care of him? What is he going to do with an omega that doesn't even know he's an omega? Kurt isn't a wolf; he can't keep him in line the way an Alpha normally would. One forceful nip and Kurt would be losing blood fast.

He can't have his mate being disobedient though. Strong-willed he might eventually come to terms with, but it goes against nature for him to be okay with Kurt being disrespectful. Kurt should respect him.

Alphas are the protectors, the leaders, the gentle yet firm caretakers. Omegas are the sweet ones, the rational ones, the ones that long to have an Alpha to care for them. Kurt should be thanking Blaine for helping him with the splinters, and offering to get him things, and for providing him with his own nice room. There are Alphas out there whose omegas don't have their own things.

There are Alphas who'd have forced Kurt into sex as soon as they realized he was theirs.

There are Alphas who would have taken care of Kurt's attitude the moment he disobeyed or said something even remotely rude with firm punishment and shaming. Blaine couldn't do that, though. Kurt wasn't a wolf; he didn't know what was expected of him and from his point of view Blaine's a creepy stalker kidnapper guy.

So he's trying to be patient, but it's hard. Not only must he swallow his pride and allow Kurt the leeway that's only fair, but he has to keep himself from taking proper care of his boy.

Kurt's cried so much; he's crying right now, actually, and Blaine can't comfort him like he should. Kurt should want to curl up in his lap when he's sad, but that's the last thing he expects Kurt will ever do.

Kurt won't let him know what he wants. He won't let Blaine buy him nice things. What the hell is he supposed to do with money if he can't buy his omega the things he wants? He doesn't even pay bills; earlier he lied to scare Kurt.

He's a terrible soulmate.

Blaine takes a deep breath, finally forcing himself up from where he'd been lying on the floor, right above Kurt's room.

He'll just have to get better. Yes, he can improve. He nods to himself in determination. He can figure out how to fix this.

But first he needs a nap. It's noon, and he is fucking nocturnal.

* * *

><p>Kurt's a very deep sleeper.<p>

Very, very deep.

So deep that Blaine could hold him close, with Kurt's head on his chest and Blaine's hand in Kurt's hair. Holding him felt right. He's never held anything special before, excluding those puppies he swore to protect when he was five.

He never wants to know what his father did with them.

But he can relax now, because his father isn't even in the country and there's nobody to steal his Kurt away now. So he does relax; he sighs and pulls his Kurt closer as he has for the past several nights, sniffing at Kurt's hair and listening intently to his heartbeat. Perhaps he can get some puppies to live with him and Kurt one day. Kurt would maybe like that.

The thought that Kurt will never like anything to do with Blaine comes, but he refuses to let it take.

The sun will rise soon. Blaine can sense it.

He'll have to leave before Kurt wakes up, because Kurt might be scared of him if he finds out he's been touching him in his sleep. It's been innocent, reverent touching, but humans have boundaries and if Blaine crosses even more of Kurt's than he already has Kurt could hate him forever.

Blaine can't allow Kurt to hate him forever.

No, he'll be good; Kurt will see. He'll learn that Blaine won't hurt him and that he belongs here, in Blaine's cottage in the woods. He'll learn to like the seclusion of the forest and the way Blaine will handle him so gently. He'll learn to like Blaine.

He has to learn, so that they can be happy. Having Kurt here had always felt right, and thanks to his friend he knows that it truly is. It all makes so much sense and he's so stupid to not have known immediately.

He blames his interactions with the humans. They've become more prevalent than they had been when wolves arrived on the earth, and the wolf population has so quickly deteriorated with the growth of people, always killing, killing, killing Blaine's kind for things they didn't do.

It wasn't like that in America at first. Not long ago, when there were far less people and those people thought wolves were brothers. They set out food for the packs in the winter when food was scarce, and gave thanks when one of their children was gifted with the wolf eyes. The eyes would be golden or dark, deep brown and the people could see the wisdom in those eyes, even when they were on a child. Back then, such things were possible. Only the wolves from that time would know more about it than that.

Blaine wasn't there, because Blaine is young. Wolves live for so long, but very few are alive that were present at the time when people were friends.

No, Blaine knows only the humans who put blame on his kind, who took his family's forests and cut down their trees, who hunted in their territory without permission and were filled with hatred when the wolves ate their prey in retaliation.

No, people were good, but they got bad. They got so bad that they wiped out entire packs, and the only option left was to fight back. Humans are easy prey, slow and arrogant. They never think anyone would dare attack them.

They were wrong. Wolves took their children in the night and fed them to their own. Young wolves laughed as they chased down a lone hunter.

It went very far. Humans soon outnumbered wolves.

But the good people were also hunted by the bad people, and their packs were dying too, so the ones left helped the wolves. They gave them their ability to change form, to hide from hunters and to have easy kills.

The wolves have been like that ever since.

Blaine's glad it all turned out this way, though. If he couldn't look person than he couldn't have Kurt, and Kurt is very important. He is better than the other people.

He looks down at his person, huffing a little in frustration. He has to go to his own room now, or he'll fall asleep and Kurt will wake up and see that he's been with him all night.

He makes sure Kurt is tucked in and kisses his forehead before jumping through the trapdoor to the main level of the cottage. He sighs when he closes and locks it. Kurt can't be trusted alone if he's not locked in his room. He wants to leave, but it's okay because he'll change his mind later. Blaine has plans to get the boy to like him. He's a good planner.

Except sometimes he forgets to plan or he doesn't make a good plan, but when his plans do work they are flawless.

* * *

><p>His ears twitch as he catches the sound of soft footsteps, and immediately he is out from under his covers, crouched on his bed and ready to strike. a figure appears in his doorway and his heart stops while his head spins. He's still tired and despite his vision being perfect at night he can't quite comprehend what he's seeing.<p>

"Kurt?"

"May I come in?" he asks softly.

"Yes," Blaine says slowly, "but how did you get out of your room? You're only a person."

"I was motivated." He grins a little. "I wanted to surprise you."

"Surprise me how?"

Kurt doesn't answer. He just slowly unties his robe before sliding it completely off.

He's wearing nothing but one of Blaine's shirts.

He's _marked_.

Blaine is face to face with Kurt in a second.

"You are here for me?"

"Of course," Kurt laughs. "I'm here just for you." He places a soft hand on Blaine's cheek before he leans down and slowly, gently presses their lips together. When he pulls away he bites his lip. "I didn't ask to borrow this shirt," he says. "Are you mad?"

"Of course not," Blaine insists in a whisper, reaching out and running his hands along Kurt's arms. "You are so beautiful," Blaine states as he stares in awe. "So beautiful and mine."

Kurt smiles, twirling around. He doesn't even complete one spin before Blaine's smashed their bodies together.

"Blaine," Kurt sighs, melting against his chest.

"What do you want, Kurt?" Blaine asks, voice low and focused.

"Anything Alpha wants," Kurt says softly, nuzzling Blaine and nipping at his jaw. "Alpha is in charge."

"Yes," Blaine growls. "He is." He kisses Kurt for real, on the lips with a hand tangled in his hair. "I'm in charge," he mutters when their lips break apart. "I'm in charge and you're mine."

"I'm yours," Kurt says, smiling at Blaine. Blaine growls and kisses him again, again, again. He's got to make Kurt's lips sore or he'll go crazy.

"Yes, you are mine." Blaine's true teeth have long ago come out, and his sharp claws have drawn Kurt's blood. He uses them to tear through the front of Kurt's shirt revealing pale skin covered in claw marks of all ages. He nods to himself in approval. "You look all mine."

"You always make sure I do," Kurt responds teasingly. "I'm your most prized possession."

The words are so true and so hot and Blaine slams him against the wall, taking pleasure in Kurt's whine, in his immediate moves to prove submission, head down, neck bared and legs slightly spread. Blaine's taught him now how good omegas behave, and Kurt knows better than to disobey what his Alpha signals he should do.

"You are, Kurt. You are and I will always take care of you."

"You're everything for me, Blaine." Kurt peeks his head out from where he's buried it in Blaine's armpit. "I love you."

Blaine can feel a wave of warmth wash over him.

"Say that again."

Kurt chuckles, but complies. He always complies, even when he thinks Blaine's being an idiot.

"I love you, Blaine."

I love you. I love you. I love you. I _love_ you.

* * *

><p>"I hate you."<p>

Blaine is fully awake in an instant. Nothing is wrong, well, nothing is different. Kurt's down in his room alternating between tears and anger, both strong and feeding off of what is unmistakably pure hatred.

"I fucking hate you."

_No you don't._

"I goddamn fucking hate you."

_You just think you do._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ah yes. What do you guys think? Some of the wording in Blaine's POV is a little awkward on purpose because he's a wolf, so I figured he might phrase things ever so slightly unusually now and then, kind of like how Castiel talks, because obviously he knows English but his sentence structure is a little weird sometimes.<strong>

**I used to ask random questions. Anybody struggling with the Goddamn AP Exams?**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: I can't edit this anymore because I have school in the morning so here's a quick preview and I will edit this chapter tomorrow and put the rest in. (There's plenty more done, but it's so out of order and tbh I still have homework.)**

* * *

><p>It's been four days since his fight with Kurt.<p>

He's done well since then, making it up to his boy, and still managing to keep a respectful distance. Kurt's been waking up to flowers, all kinds of them. Blaine's covered the room because he's never sure what to get. He likes the little dandelions, always has, but he watches television sometimes, and he's never seen anyone give their special person flowers that blow away, so just those might be bad.

He's been cooking, too. He's never had to cook things that weren't people, but he's found that, so long as he pays really close attention to the directions on the boxes, he can bake really well.

He's got muffins heating up right this moment. He thinks Kurt will like blueberry, because he likes blueberry, and they must have some things in common.

Blaine's been thinking about talking to Kurt again.

Kurt hasn't cried as much lately, so he might be warming up to the idea of spending his life here.

It doesn't even have to be _here_. So long as Kurt stays with him, they can go wherever the boy wants, Paris even. Kurt seems like a Paris person.

Blaine can learn French. He would gladly learn French.

He'd do anything for Kurt, he really would. He could get him anything he wanted, make him anything he wanted or needed. Blaine's good at building; he built his house and the table and beds.

He'll build a crib for their pups one day.

Though, they probably can't have one. Kurt is too human.

He'll have to handle that somehow. Omegas get upset over things like that, and Blaine wants little ones running around. They'll be cute and jumpy and make Kurt smile, and Blaine would get to prove what a good father he could be.

Kurt would want his babies -people call them babies, Blaine remembers- to have a good father.

Although Kurt would also be a father, so they'd have to come up with something. They can cross that bridge when they come to it.

There's a little river close by. Blaine can build Kurt a pretty bridge, a bendy one with a railing they can wrap flowers around.

They can take pictures to hang up; Blaine's never had any real pictures to hang.

He looks at his bare walls and smiles. The thought that one day, the blankness would be covered with memories detailing years and years of his life with Kurt, is enough to get him through anything.

* * *

><p>Kurt wakes up to muffins.<p>

He eats them, and drinks the milk he can only assume Blaine set out on the little bedside table.

Unless Blaine has a maid, because that would make far more sense. Blaine didn't seem like the baking type.

He seemed like the crazy type who locks people in cellars.

Still, he'd rather have muffins than moldy bread or gummy oatmeal.

Besides, blueberry is his favorite.

He's gotten over his suspicions of Blaine poisoning him, so he allows himself to enjoy it. Blaine really isn't that bad, as far as kidnappers go. He hasn't tried to rape Kurt or mutilate him with an ice pick.

Maybe it's a little sad, but Kurt does appreciate that.

And maybe it's even more sad, but he also appreciates the effort the man makes.

He's developing a frightening nonchalance.

* * *

><p>Blaine smirks as he listens in after Kurt wakes up. His boy likes blueberry. He gave a happy hum when he bit into the first one.<p>

He'd continue listening to Kurt eat, but he's still got the self-awareness to realize that he's being what people consider creepy, so he pushes himself up from the floor and goes to clean the kitchen.

Kurt probably likes tidy things. He's always been very well put-together.

Blaine jumps a little when he remembers.

He got Kurt presents. Well, he has been giving him presents since he got here, but these ones are better than anything so far, because these ones present the perfect opportunity to get Kurt to spend time with him.

Nothing's better than that.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: After school tomorrow, I swear!<strong>


End file.
